When as the Rie reach to the chin,
And chopcherrie,[1034] chopcherrie ripe within,
Strawberries swimming in the creame,
And schoole boyes playing in the streame: 70
Then O, then O, then O my true love said,
Till that time come againe,
Shee could not live a maid.
_Ant._ This sport dooes well: but me thinkes, Gammer, a merry
winters tale would drive away the time trimly. Come, I am sure 75
you are not without a score.
_Fantast._ I faith, Gammer, a tale of an howre long were as good
as an howres sleepe.
_Frol._ Looke you, Gammer, of the Gyant and the Kings Daughter,[1035]
and I know not what. I have seene the day when I was a little one, 80
you might have drawne mee a mile after you with such a discourse.
_Old woman._ Well, since you be so importunate, my good man
shall fill the pot and get him to bed; they that ply their worke must
keepe good howres. One of you goe lye with him; he is a cleane
skind man, I tell you, without either spavin or windgall; so I am 85
content to drive away the time with an old wives winters tale.
_Fantast._ No better hay in Devonshire,[1036] a my word, Gammer, Ile
be one of your audience.
_Frolicke._ And I another: thats flat.
_Anticke._ Then must I to bed with the good man. _Bona nox_ Gammer; 90
God night, Frolicke.
_Smith._ Come on, my lad, thou shalt take thy unnaturall[1037] rest
with me.
_Exeunt_ ANTICKE _and the_ SMITH.
_Frollicke._ Yet this vantage shall we have of them in the morning,
to bee ready at the sight thereof extempore.[1038] 95
_Old wom._ Nowe this bargaine, my masters, must I make with you, that
you will say _hum_ & _ha_ to my tale, so shall I know you are awake.
_Both._ Content, Gammer, that will we doo.
_Old wom._ Once uppon a time there was a King or a Lord, or a
Duke, that had a faire daughter, the fairest that ever was; as 100
white as snowe, and as redd as bloud: and once uppon a time his
daughter was stollen away, and hee sent all his men to seeke out his
daughter, and hee sent so long, that he sent all his men out of his
land.
_Frol._ Who drest his dinner then?
_Old woman._ Nay, either heare my tale, or kisse my taile. 105
_Fan._ Well sed, on with your tale, Gammer.
_Old woman._ O Lord, I quite forgot, there was a Conjurer, and this
Conjurer could doo any thing, and hee turned himselfe into a great
Dragon, and carried the Kinges Daughter away in his mouth to a
Castle that hee made of stone, and there he kept hir I know not how
long, till at last all the Kinges men went out so long, that 110
hir two Brothers went to seeke hir.[1039] O, I forget: she (he I
would say) turned a proper[1040] yong man to a Beare in the night,
and a man in the day, and keeps[1041] by a crosse that parts three
severall waies, & he[1042] made his Lady run mad ... Gods me bones,
who comes here? 115
_Enter the two Brothers._
_Frol._ Soft, Gammer, here some come to tell your tale for you.[1043]
_Fant._ Let them alone, let us heare what they will say.
1 _Brother._ Upon these chalkie cliffs of Albion[1044]
We are arived now with tedious toile, 120
And compassing the wide world round about
To seeke our sister, to[1045] seeke faire Delya forth,
Yet cannot we so much as heare of hir.
_2 Brother._ O fortune cruell, cruell & unkind,
Unkind in that we cannot find our sister; 125
Our sister haples in hir cruell chance!
Soft, who have we here?
_Enter_ SENEX _at the Crosse, stooping to gather_.
_1 Brother._ Now, father, God be your speed,
What doo you gather there?
_Old man._ Hips and hawes, and stickes and straws, and thinges 130
that I gather on the ground, my sonne.[1046]
_1 Brother._ Hips and hawes, and stickes and strawes! Why, is that all
your foode, father?
_Old man._ Yea, sonne.
_2 Brother._ Father, here is an almes pennie for mee, and if I speede
in that I goe for, I will give thee as good a gowne of gray[1047] 135
as ever thou diddest weare.
_1 Brother._ And, father, here is another almes pennie for me, and
if I speede in my journey, I will give thee a palmers staffe of
yvorie, and a scallop shell of beaten gold.[1048] 140
_Old man._ Was shee fayre?[1049]
_2 Brother._ I, the fairest for white, and the purest for redd, as the
blood of the deare, or the driven snow.
_Old m._ Then harke well and marke well, my old spell:
Be not afraid of every stranger, 145
Start not aside at every danger:
Things that seeme are not the same,
Blow a blast at every flame:
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then comes your wishes well about: 150
If any aske who told you this good,
Say the White Beare of Englands wood.
_1 Brother._ Brother, heard you not what the old man said?
Be not afraid of every stranger,
Start not aside for every danger: 155
Things that seeme are not the same,
Blow a blast at every flame:
If any aske who told you this good,
Say the White Beare of Englands wood.[1050]
_2 Brother._ Well, if this doo us any good, 160
Wel fare the White Bear of Englands wood. _Ex._
_Old man._ Now sit thee here & tel a heavy tale.
Sad in thy moode, and sober in thy cheere,
Here sit thee now and to thy selfe relate,
The hard mishap of thy most wretched state. 165
In Thessalie I liv'd in sweete content,
Untill that Fortune wrought my overthrow;
For there I wedded was unto a dame,
That liv'd in honor, vertue, love, and fame:
But Sacrapant, that cursed sorcerer, 170
Being besotted with my beauteous love,
My deerest love, my true betrothed wife,
Did seeke the meanes to rid me of my life.
But worse than this, he with his chanting[1051] spels,
Did turne me straight unto an ugly Beare; 175
And when the sunne doth settle in the west,
Then I begin to don my ugly hide:
And all the day I sit, as now you see,
And speake in riddles all inspirde with rage,
Seeming an olde and miserable man: 180
And yet I am in Aprill of my age.
_Enter_ VENELIA _his Lady mad; and goes in againe_.
See where Venelya, my betrothed love,
Runs madding all inrag'd about the woods,
All by his curssed and inchanting spels.
_Enter_ LAMPRISCUS _with a pot of honny_.
But here comes Lampriscus, my discontented neighbour. How now, 185
neighbour, you looke towarde the ground as well as I; you muse on
something.
_Lamp._ Neighbour on nothing, but on the matter I so often mooved to
you: if you do any thing for charity, helpe me; if for neighborhood
or brotherhood, helpe me: never was one so combered as is poore 190
Lampryscus: and to begin, I pray receive this potte of honny to
mend[1052] your fare.
_Old man._ Thankes, neighbor, set it downe;
Honny is alwaies welcome to the Beare.
And now, neighbour, let me heere the cause of your comming. 195
_Lampriscus._ I am (as you knowe, neighbour) a man unmaried, and lived
so unquietly with my two wives, that I keepe every yeare holy the day
wherein I buried the_m_ both: the first was on Saint Andrewes day, the
other on Saint Lukes.[1053]
_Old man._ And now, neighbour, you of this country say, your 200
custome is out: but on with your tale, neighbour.
_Lamp._ By my first wife, whose tongue wearied me alive, and
sounded in my eares like the clapper of a great bell, whose talke
was a continuall torment to all that dwelt by her, or lived nigh her,
you have heard me say I had a handsome daughter. 205
_Old man._ True, neighbour.
_Lampr._ Shee it is that afflictes me with her continuall clamoures,
and hangs on me like a burre: poore shee is, and proude shee is; as
poore as a sheepe new shorne, and as proude of her hopes, as a peacock
of her taile well growne. 210
_Old man._ Well said, Lampryscus, you speake it like an Englishman.
_Lampr._ As curst as a waspe, and as frowarde as a childe new
taken from the mothers teate; shee is to my age, as smoake to the
eyes, or as vinegar to the teeth. 215
_Old man._ Holily praised, neighbour, as much for the next.
_Lampr._ By my other wife I had a daughter, so hard favoured, so foule
and ill faced, that I thinke a grove full of golden trees, and the
leaves of rubies and dyamonds, would not bee a dowrie annswerable to
her deformitie. 220
_Old man._ Well, neighbour, nowe you have spoke, heere me speake; send
them to the well for the water of life:[1054] there shall they finde
their fortunes unlooked for. Neighbour, farewell. _Exit._
_Lampr._ Farewell and a thousand;[1055] and now goeth poore Lampryscus
to put in execution this excellent counsell. _Exeunt._ 225
_Frol._ Why this goes rounde without a fidling stick. But doo you
heare, Gammer, was this the man that was a beare in the night, and a
man in the day?
_Old woman._ I, this is hee; and this man that came to him was a
beggar, and dwelt uppon a greene. But soft, who comes here? O 230
these are the harvest men; ten to one they sing a song of mowing.
_Enter the harvest men a singing, with this_ SONG double repeated.[1056]
All yee that lovely lovers be, pray you for me.
Loe here we come a sowing, a sowing,
And sowe sweete fruites of love:
In your sweete hearts well may it proove. _Exeunt._ 235
_Enter_ HUANEBANGO[1057] _with his two hand sword, and_ BOOBY[1058]
_the Clowne_.
_Fant._ Gammer, what is he?
_Old woman._ O this is one that is going to the Conjurer; let him
alone; here what he sayes.
_Huan._ Now by Mars and Mercury, Jupiter and Janus, Sol and
Saturnus, Venus and Vesta, Pallas and Proserpina, and by the honor
of my house Polimackeroeplacydus,[1059] it is a wonder to see 240
what this love will make silly fellowes adventure, even in the wane
of their wits and infansie of their discretion. Alas, my friend,
what fortune calles thee foorth to seeke thy fortune among brasen
gates, inchanted towers, fire and brimstone, thunder and lightning?
Beautie, I tell thee, is peerelesse, and she precious whom thou 245
affectest: do off these desires, good countriman, good friend,
runne away from thy selfe, and so soone as thou canst, forget her;
whom none must inherit but he that can monsters tame, laboures
atchive, riddles absolve, loose inchantments, murther magicke, and
kill conjuring: and that is the great and mighty Huanebango. 250
_Booby._ Harke you sir, harke you. First know I have here the
flurting feather, and have given the parish the start for the long
stocke.[1060] Nowe sir, if it bee no more but running through a
little lightning and thunder, and riddle me, riddle me, what's
this,[1061] Ile have the wench from the Conjurer if he were ten 255
Conjurers.
_Huan._ I have abandoned the court and honourable company, to
doo my devoyre against this sore sorcerer and mighty magitian: if
this Ladie be so faire as she is said to bee, she is mine, she is
mine. _Meus, mea, meum, in contemptum omnium grammaticorum._ 260
_Booby._ _O falsum Latinum!_ the faire maide is _minum, cum
apurtinantibus gibletes_ and all.
_Huan._ If shee bee mine, as I assure my selfe the heavens will
doo somewhat to reward my worthines, shee shall bee allied to
none of the meanest gods, but bee invested in the most famous 265
stocke of Huanebango Polimackeroeplacidus, my grandfather, my
father Pergopolyneo, my mother Dyonora de Sardynya, famouslie
descended.
_Booby._ Doo you heare, sir, had not you a cosen, that was called
Gustecerydis? 270
_Huan._ Indeede I had a cosen, that sometime followed the court
infortunately, and his name Bustegustecerydis.
_Booby._ O Lord I know him well; hee is the[1062] knight of the
neates feete.
_Huan._ O he lov'd no capon better. He hath oftentimes deceived 275
his boy of his dinner; that was his fault, good Bustegustecerydis.
_Booby._ Come, shall we goe along?[1063] Soft, here is an olde man at
the Crosse; let us aske him the way thither. Ho, you Gaffer, I pray
you tell where the wise man the Conjurer dwells.
_Huan._ Where that earthly Goddesse keepeth hir abode, the 280
commander of my thougts, and faire Mistres of my heart.
_Old man._ Faire inough, and farre inough from thy fingering,
sonne.
_Huan._ I will followe my fortune after mine owne fancie, and
doo according to mine owne discretion. 285
_Old man._ Yet give some thing to an old man before you goe.
_Huan._ Father, mee thinkes a peece of this cake might serve
your turne.
_Old man._ Yea, sonne.
_Huan._ Huanebango giveth no cakes for almes; aske of them 290
that give giftes for poore beggars. Faire Lady, if thou wert once
shrined in this bosome, I would buckler thee hara-tantara. _Exit._
_Booby._ Father, doo you see this man? You litle thinke heele run
a mile or two for such a cake, or passe for[1064] a pudding. I tell
you, Father, hee has kept such a begging of mee for a peece of 295
this cake! Whoo, he comes uppon me with a superfantiall substance,
and the foyson[1065] of the earth, that I know not what he meanes.
Iff hee came to me thus, and said, 'my friend Booby,' or so, why I
could spare him a peece with all my heart; but when he tells me how
God hath enriched mee above other fellowes with a cake, why hee 300
makes me blinde and deafe at once. Yet, father, heere is a peece of
cake for you,[1066] as harde as the world goes.[1067]
_Old man._ Thanks, sonne, but list to mee:
He shall be deafe when thou shalt not see.
Farewell, my sonne; things may so hit, 305
Thou maist have wealth to mend thy wit.
_Booby._ Farewell, father, farewell; for I must make hast after my
two-hand sword that is gone before. _Exeunt omnes._
_Enter_ SACRAPANT _in his studie_.
_Sacrapant._ The day is cleare, the welkin bright and gray,
The larke is merrie, and records[1068] hir notes; 310
Each thing rejoyseth underneath the skie,
But onely I whom heaven hath in hate,
Wretched and miserable Sacrapant.
In Thessalie was I borne and brought up.[1069]
My mother Meroe hight, a famous witch, 315
And by hir cunning I of hir did learne,
To change and alter shapes of mortall men.
There did I turne my selfe into a dragon,
And stole away the daughter to the king,
Faire Delya, the mistres of my heart, 320
And brought hir hither to revive the man
That seemeth yong and pleasant to behold,
And yet is aged, crooked, weake and numbe.
Thus by inchaunting spells I doo deceive
Those that behold and looke upon my face; 325
But well may I bid youthfull yeares adue.
_Enter_ DELYA _with a pot in hir hand_.
See where she coms from whence my sorrows grow.
How now, faire Delya, where have you bin?
_Delya._ At the foote of the rocke for running water, and gathering
rootes for your dinner, sir. 330
_Sacr._ Ah, Delya, fairer art thou than the running water, yet harder
farre than steele or adamant.
_Delya._ Will it please you to sit downe, sir?
_Sacr._ I, Delya, sit & aske me what thou wilt; thou shalt have it
brought into thy lappe. 335
_Delya._ Then I pray you, sir, let mee have the best meate from the
king of Englands table, and the best wine in all France, brought in by
the veriest knave in all Spaine.[1070]
_Sacr._ Delya, I am glad to see you so pleasant.
Well, sit thee downe. 340
Spred, table, spred; meat, drinke & bred;
Ever may I have what I ever crave,
When I am spred, for[1071] meate for my black cock,
And meate for my red.
_Enter a_ FRIER _with a chine of beefe and a pot of wine_.
_Sacr._ Heere, Delya, will yee fall to? 345
_Del._ Is this the best meate in England?
_Sacr._ Yea.
_Del._ What is it?
_Sacr._ A chine of English beefe, meate for a king
And a king's followers. 350
_Del._ Is this the best wine in France?
_Sacr._ Yea.
_Del._ What wine is it?
_Sacr._ A cup of neate wine of Orleance,
That never came neer the brewers in England.[1072] 355
_Del._ Is this the veriest knave in all Spaine?
_Sacr._ Yea.
_Del._ What, is he a fryer?
_Sacr._ Yea, a frier indefinit, & a knave infinit.
_Del._ Then I pray ye, sir Frier, tell me before you goe, which is 360
the most greediest Englishman?
_Fryer._ The miserable and most covetous usurer.
_Sacr._ Holde thee there, Friar. _Exit Friar._
But soft, who have we heere? Delia, away, begon.[1073]
_Enter the two Brothers._
Delya, away, for beset are we; 365
But heaven or hell shall rescue her for me.[1074]
_1. Br._ Brother, was not that Delya did appeare?
Or was it but her shadow that was here?
_2. Bro._ Sister, where art thou? Delya, come again;
He calles, that of thy absence doth complaine. 370
Call out, Calypha, that she may heare,
And crie aloud, for Delya is neere.
_Eccho._ Neere.[1075]
_1. Br._ Neere? O where, hast thou any tidings?
_Eccho._ Tidings. 375
_2. Br._ Which way is Delya then,--or that, or this?
_Eccho._ This.
_1. Br._ And may we safely come where Delia is?
_Eccho._ Yes.
_2. Bro._ Brother, remember you the white 380
Beare of Englands wood:
Start not aside for every danger;
Be not afeard of every stranger;
Things that seeme, are not the same.
_1. Br._ Brother, why do we not the_n_ coragiously enter? 385
_2. Br._ Then, brother, draw thy sword & follow me.
_Enter the Conjurer; it lightens & thunders; the 2. Brother falls
downe._
_1. Br._ What, brother, doost thou fall?
_Sacr._ I, and thou to, Calypha.
_Fall 1. Brother. Enter two Furies._
_Adeste Dæmones_: away with them;
Go cary them straight to Sacrapantos cell, 390
There in despaire and torture for to dwell.
These are Thenores sonnes of Thessaly,
That come to seeke Delya their sister forth;
But with a potion, I to her have given,
My arts hath made her to forget her selfe. 395
_He remooves a turfe, and shewes a light in a glasse._[1076]
See heere the thing which doth prolong my life;
With this inchantment I do any thing.
And till this fade, my skill shall still endure,
And never none shall breake this little glasse,
But she that's neither wife, widow, nor maide. 400
Then cheere thy selfe; this is thy destinie,
Never to die, but by a dead mans hand. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ EUMENIDES _the wandering knight, and the Old Man_[1077] _at
the Crosse._
_Eum._ Tell me, Time, tell me, just Time,
When shall I Delia see?
When shall I see the loadstar of my life? 405
When shall my wandring course end with her sight,
Or I but view my hope, my hearts delight!
Father, God speede; if you tell fortunes, I pray, good father, tell me
mine.
_Old man._ Sonne, I do see in thy face, 410
Thy blessed fortune worke apace;
I do perceive that thou hast wit,
Beg of thy fate to governe it;
For wisdome govern'd by advise
Makes many fortunate and wise. 415
Bestowe thy almes, give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at thy call.
Farewell, my sonne, dreame of no rest,
Til thou repent that thou didst best. _Exit Old M._
_Eum._ This man hath left me in a laborinth: 420
He biddeth me give more than all,
Till dead mens bones come at thy call:
He biddeth me dreame of no rest,
Till I repent that I do best.
_Enter_ WIGGEN, COROBUS,[1078] CHURCHWARDEN _and_ SEXTEN.
_Wiggen._ You may be ashamed, you whorson scald Sexton and 425
Churchwarden, if you had any shame in those shamelesse faces of
yours, to let a poore man lie so long above ground unburied. A
rot on you all, that have no more compassion of a good fellow
when he is gone.
_Simon._ What, would you have us to burie him, and to aunswere 430
it our selves to the parrishe?
_Sexton._ Parish me no parishes; pay me my fees, and let the rest
runne on in the quarters accounts, and put it downe for one of your
good deedes a Gods name; for I am not one that curiously stands
upon merits. 435
_Corobus._ You whoreson, sodden-headed sheepes-face, shall a good
fellow do lesse service and more honestie to the parish, & will you
not, when he is dead, let him have Christmas[1079] buriall?
_Wiggen._ Peace Corebus, as sure[1080] as Jack was Jack, the
frollickst frannion[1081] amongst you, and I Wiggen his sweete
sworne brother,[1082] Jack shall have his funerals, or some of 440
them shall lie on Gods deare earth for it, thats once.[1083]
_Churchwa._ Wiggen, I hope thou wilt do no more then thou
darst aunswer.
_Wig._ Sir, sir, dare or dare not, more or lesse, aunswer or not 445
aunswer, do this, or have this.
_Sex._ Helpe, helpe, helpe![1084] Wiggen sets upon the parish with a
pike staffe.
EUMENIDES _awakes and comes to them_.
_Eum._ Hould thy hands, good fellow.
_Core._ Can you blame him, sir, if he take Jacks part against this 450
shake-rotten parish that will not burie Jack.
_Eum._ Why, what was that Jack?
_Coreb._ Who Jack, sir, who our Jack, sir? as good a fellow as
ever troade uppon neats leather.
_Wiggen._ Looke you, sir, he gave foure score and nineteene 455
mourning gownes to the parish when he died, and because he would
not make them up a full hundred, they would not bury him; was
not this good dealing?
_Churchwar._ Oh Lord, sir, how he lies; he was not worth a
halfe-penny, and drunke out every penny: and nowe his fellowes, his
drunken companions, would have us to burie him at the[1085] 460
charge of the parish. And we make many such matches, we may pull
downe the steeple, sell the belles, and thatche the chauncell.
He shall lie above ground till he daunce a galliard about the
churchyard for Steeven Loache. 465
_Wiggen._ _Sic argumentaris, domine Loache_;--and we make many
such matches, we may pull downe the steeple, sell the belles, and
thatche the chauncell: in good time, sir, and hang your selves in
the bell ropes when you have done. _Domine oponens, præpono tibi
hanc questionem_, whether you will have the ground broken, or your
pates broken first? For one of them shall be done presently, 470
and to begin mine[1086] Ile seale it upon your cockescome.
_Eum._ Hould thy hands, I pray thee, good fellow; be not too hastie.
_Coreb._ You capons face, we shall have you turnd out of the 475
parish one of these dayes, with never a tatter to your arse; then you
are in worse taking then Jack.
_Eumen._ Faith and he is bad enough. This fellow does but the part
of a friend, to seeke to burie his friend; how much will burie him?
_Wiggen._ Faith, about some fifteene or sixteene shillings will 480
bestow him honestly.
_Sexton._ I, even there abouts, sir.
_Eumen._ Heere, hould it then, and I have left me but one poore three
halfe pence; now do I remember the wordes the old man spake at the
crosse: 'bestowe all thou hast,'--and this is all,--'till dead 485
mens bones comes at thy call.' Heare, holde it,[1087] and so farewell.
_Wig._ God, and all good, bee with you sir; naie, you cormorants,
Ile bestowe one peale of[1088] Jack at mine owne proper costs and
charges.
_Coreb._ You may thanke God the long staffe and the bilbowe 490
blade crost not your cockescombe. Well, weele to the church
stile,[1090] and have a pot, and so tryll lyll.
_Both._ Come, lets go. _Exeunt._
_Fant._ But harke you, gammer, me thinkes this Jack bore a great
sway in the parish. 495
_Old woman._ O this Jack was a marvelous fellow; he was but a
poore man, but very well beloved: you shall see anon what this
Jack will come to.
_Enter the harvest men singing, with women in their hands._
_Frol._ Soft, who have wee heere? our amorous harvest starres.[1089]
_Fant._ I, I, let us sit still and let them alone. 500
_Heere they begin to sing, the song doubled._[1090]
Soe heere we come a reaping, a reaping,
To reape our harvest fruite,
And thus we passe the yeare so long,
And never be we mute. _Exit the harvest men._[1091]
_Enter_ HUANEBANGO _and_ COREBUS _the clowne_.[1092]
_Frol._ Soft, who have we here? 505
_Old w._ O this is a cholerick gentleman; all you that love your
lives, keepe out of the smell of his two-hand sworde: nowe goes he
to the conjurer.
_Fant._ Me thinkes the Conjurer should put the foole into a
jugling boxe. 510
_Huan._ Fee, fa, fum,[1093] here is the Englishman,
Conquer him that can, came for his lady bright,
To proove himselfe a knight,
And win her love in fight.
_Cor._ Who-hawe, maister Bango, are you here? heare you, you 515
had best sit downe heere, and beg an almes with me.
_Huan._ Hence, base cullion, heere is he that commaundeth ingresse
and egresse with his weapon, and will enter at his voluntary,
whosover saith no.
_A voice and flame of fire_: HUANEBANGO _falleth downe_.
_Voice._ No. 520
_Old w._ So with that, they kist, and spoiled the edge of as good
a two hand sword, as ever God put life in; now goes Corebus in,
spight of the conjurer.
_Enter the Conjurer, & strike_ COREBUS _blinde_.[1094]
_Sacr._ Away with him into the open fields,
To be a ravening pray to crowes and kites:[1095] 525
And for this villain, let him wander up & downe
In nought but darkenes and eternall night.[1096]
_Cor._ Heer hast thou slain Huan, a slashing knight,
And robbed poore Corebus of his sight. _Exit._
_Sacr._ Hence, villaine, hence. 530
Now I have unto Delya given a potion of forgetfulnes,
That when shee comes, shee shall not know hir brothers.
Lo where they labour, like to country slaves,
With spade and mattocke on this inchaunted ground!
Now will I call hir by another name, 535
For never shall she know hir selfe againe,
Untill that Sacrapant hath breathd his last.
See where she comes. _Enter Delya._
Come hither, Delya, take this gode.[1097]
Here, hard[1098] at hand, two slaves do worke and dig for gold; 540
Gore them with this & thou shalt have inough.
_He gives hir a gode._
_Del._ Good sir, I know not what you meane.
_Sacra._ She hath forgotten to be Delya,
But not forgot the same[1099] she should forget:
But I will change hir name. 545
Faire Berecynthia, so this country calls you,
Goe ply these strangers, wench, they dig for gold. _Exit Sacrapant._
_Delya._ O heavens! how am I beholding to[1100] this faire yong man.
But I must ply these strangers to their worke.
See where they come. 550
_Enter the two Brothers in their shirts, with spades, digging._
_1. Brother._ O Brother, see where Delya is!
_2. Brother._ O Delya, happy are we to see thee here.
_Delya._ What tell you mee of Delya, prating swaines?
I know no Delya nor know I what you meane;
Ply you your work, or else you are like to smart. 555
_1. Brother._ Why, Delya, knowst thou not thy brothers here?
We come from Thessalie to seeke thee forth,
And thou deceivest thy selfe, for thou art Delya.
_Delya._ Yet more of Delya? then take this and smart:
What, faine you shifts for to defer your labor? 560
Worke, villaines, worke, it is for gold you digg.
_2. Br._ Peace, brother, peace, this vild inchanter
Hath ravisht Delya of hir sences cleane,
And she forgets that she is Delya.
_1. Br._ Leave, cruell thou, to hurt the miserable; 565
Digg, brother, digg, for she is hard as steele.
_Here they dig & descry the light under a little hill._
_2. Br._ Stay, brother, what hast thou descride?
_Del._ Away & touch it not; it is some thing that my lord hath hidden
there. _She covers it agen._
_Enter_ SACRAPANT.
_Sacr._ Well sed,[1101] thou plyest these pyoners well. Goe, get 570
you in, you labouring slaves.
Come, Berecynthia, let us in likewise,
And heare the nightingale record hir notes. _Exeunt omnes._
_Enter_ ZANTYPPA, _the curst daughter, to the Well,[1102] with a pot
in hir hand_.
_Zant._ Now for a husband, house and home; God send a good one or
none, I pray God. My father hath sent me to the well for the water
of life, and tells mee, if I give faire wordes, I shall have a 575
husband.
_Enter the fowle wench to the Well for water, with a pot in hir hand._
But heere comes Celanta, my sweete sister; Ile stand by and heare
what she saies.
_Celant._ My father hath sent mee to the well for water, and he 580
tells me if I speake faire, I shall have a husband, and none of the
worst. Well, though I am blacke,[1103] I am sure all the world will
not forsake mee; and as the olde proverbe is, though I am blacke, I am
not the divell.
_Zant._ Marrie gup with a murren, I knowe wherefore thou speakest 585
that; but goe thy waies home as wise as thou camst, or Ile set thee
home with a wanion.
_Here she strikes hir pitcher against hir sisters, and breakes them
both and goes hir way._
_Celant._ I thinke this be the curstest queane in the world. You see
what she is, a little faire, but as prowd as the divell, and the
veriest vixen that lives upon Gods earth. Well, Ile let hir alone, and
goe home and get another pitcher, and for all this get me to the 590
well for water. _Exit._
_Enter two Furies out of the Conjurers cell and laies_ HUANEBANGO _by
the Well of Life_.
_Enter_ ZANTIPPA _with a pitcher to the Well_.
_Zant._ Once againe for a husband, & in faith, Celanta, I have got the
start of you. Belike husbands growe by the Well side. Now my father
sayes I must rule my tongue: why, alas, what am I then? A woman 595
without a tongue is as a souldier without his weapon; but Ile have my
water and be gon.
_Heere she offers to dip her pitcher in, and a head speakes in the
Well._
_Head._ Gently dip, but not too deepe,[1104]
For feare you make the golden birde[1105] to weepe,
Faire maiden, white and red, 600
Stroke me smoothe, and combe my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell bread.
_Zant._ What is this,--Faire maiden white & red,
Combe me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shall have some cockell bread.[1106] 605
Cockell callst thou it, boy?--faith, Ile give you cockell bread.
_Shee breakes hir pitcher uppon his heade, then it thunders and
lightens,[1107] and_ HUANEBANGO _rises up_: HUANEBANGO _is deafe and
cannot heare_.[1108]
_Huan._ Phylyda phylerydos, Pamphylyda floryda flortos,
Dub dub a dub, bounce quoth the guns, with a sulpherous huffe
snuffe.[1109]
Wakte with a wench, pretty peat, pretty love and my sweet prettie 610
pigsnie;
Just by thy side shall sit surnamed great Huanebango
Safe in my armes will I keepe thee, threat Mars or thunder Olympus.
_Zant._ Foe, what greasie groome have wee here? Hee looks as 615
though hee crept out of the backeside of the Well; and speakes like
a drum perisht at the west end.
_Huan._ O that I might, but I may not, woe to my destenie
therefore,[1110]
Kisse that I claspe,--but I cannot; tell mee my destenie 620
where-fore?
_Zant._ Whoope nowe I have my dreame, did you never heare so
great a wonder as this?
Three blue beanes in a blue bladder, rattle, bladder, rattle.[1111]
_Huan._ Ile nowe set my countenance and to hir in prose; it may 625
be this _rim ram ruffe_[1112] is too rude an incounter.
Let me, faire Ladie, if you be at leisure, revell with your sweetnes,
and raile uppon that cowardly Conjurer, that hath cast me or congealed
mee rather into an unkinde sleepe and polluted my carcasse.
_Zantyppa._ Laugh, laugh, Zantyppa, thou hast thy fortune, a foole 630
and a husbande under one.
_Huan._ Truely, sweete heart, as I seeme, about some twenty
yeares, the very Aprill of mine age.
_Zantyppa._ Why, what a prating asse is this?
_Huanebango._ Hir corall lippes, hir crimson chinne, 635
Hir silver teeth so white within:
Hir golden locks, hir rowling eye,
Hir pretty parts, let them goe by:
Hey ho, hath wounded me,
That I must die this day to see. 640
_Za._ By gogs bones, thou art a flouting knave.
"Hir corall lippes, hir crimson chinne," ka, "wilshaw."[1113]
_Huan._ True, my owne, and my owne because mine, & mine because
mine, ha ha! Above a thousand pounds in possibilitie, and
things fitting thy desire in possession. 645
_Zan._ The sott thinkes I aske of his landes. Lobb[1114] be your
comfort, and cuckold bee your destenie. Heare you, sir; and if you
will have us, you had best say so betime.
_Huan._ True, sweete heart, and will royallize thy progeny with
my petigree. _Exeunt omnes._ 650
_Enter_ EUMENIDES _the wandring knight_.
_Eu._ Wretched Eumenides, still unfortunate,
Envied by fortune, and forlorne by fate;
Here pine and die, wretched Eumenides.
Die in the spring, the Aprill of my[1115] age?
Here sit thee down, repent what thou hast don: 655
I would to God that it were nere begon.
_Enter_ JACKE.[1116]
_Jacke._ You are well overtaken, sir.
_Eum._ Who's that?
_Jacke._ You are heartily well met, sir.
_Eum._ Forbeare, I say, who is that which pincheth mee? 660
_Jacke._ Trusting in God, good Master Eumenides, that you are in so
good health as all your friends were at the making hereof, God give
you God morrowe, sir, lacke you not a neate, handsome and cleanly
yong lad, about the age of fifteene or sixteene yeares, that can
runne[1117] by your horse,[1118] and for a neede make your 665
master-shippes shooes as blacke as incke,--howe say you sir?
_Eum._ Alasse, pretty lad, I know not how to keepe my selfe, and much
lesse a servant, my pretty boy, my state is so bad.
_Jacke._ Content your selfe, you shall not bee so ill a master
but ile bee as bad a servant. Tut, sir, I know you, though you
know not me. Are not you the man, sir, denie it if you can, 670
sir,[1119] that came from a strange place in the land of Catita,
where Jacke-a-napes flies with his taile in his mouth, to seeke out
a Ladie as white as snowe, and as redd as blood; ha, ha, have I
toucht you now?
_Eum._ I thinke this boy be a spirit. 675
How knowst thou all this?
_Jacke._ Tut, are not you the man, sir, denie it if you can, sir, that
gave all the money you had to the burying of a poore man, and but
one three-halfe-pence left in your pursse? Content you, sir, Ile serve
you, that is flat. 680
_Eum._ Well, my lad, since thou art so impornate, I am content to
entertaine thee, not as a servant, but a copartner in my journey. But
whither shall we goe? for I have not any money more than one bare
three halfe-pence.
_Jacke._ Well, master content your selfe, for if my divination bee 685
not out, that shall bee spent at the next inne or alehouse we come
too; for maister, I knowe you are passing hungrie; therefore Ile goe
before and provide dinner untill that you come; no doubt but youle
come faire and softly after.
_Eum._ I, go before, Ile follow thee. 690
_Jack._ But doo you heare, maister, doo you know my name?
_Eum._ No, I promise thee, not yet.
_Jack._ Why, I am Jack. _Exeunt_ Jack.
_Eum._ Jack, why be it so, then.
_Enter the Hostes and_ JACK, _setting meate on the table, and Fidlers
came[1120] to playi_, EUMENIDES _walketh up and downe, and will eate no
meate_.
_Host._ How say you, sir, doo you please to sit downe? 695
_Eum._ Hostes, I thanke you, I have no great stomack.
_Host._ Pray, sir, what is the reason your maister is so strange?
Doth not this meate please him?
_Jack._ Yes, hostes, but it is my maisters fashion to pay before
hee eates, therefore a reckoning, good hostesse. 700
_Host._ Marry shall you, sir, presently. _Exit._
_Eum._ Why, Jack, what doost thou meane, thou knowest I have
not any money: therefore, sweete Jack, tell me what shall I doo.
_Jack._ Well, maister, looke in your pursse.[1121]
_Eum._ Why, faith, it is a follie, for I have no money. 705
_Jack._ Why, looke you, maister, doo so much for me.
_Eum._ Alas, Jack, my pursse is full of money.
_Jack._ 'Alas,' maister,--does that worde belong to this accident?
Why, me thinkes I should have seene you cast away your cloake,
and in a bravado daunced a galliard round about the chamber; why, 710
maister, your man can teach you more wit than this; come, hostis
cheere up my maister.
_Hostis._ You are heartily welcome: and if it please you to eate
of a fat capon, a fairer birde, a finer birde, a sweeter birde, a
crisper birde, a neater birde, your worship never eate off. 715
_Eum._ Thankes, my fine eloquent hostesse.
_Jack._ But heare you, maister, one worde by the way; are you
content I shall be halfes in all you get in your journey?
_Eum._ I am, Jack, here is my hand.
_Jack._ Enough, maister, I aske no more. 720
_Eum._ Come, hostesse, receive your money, and I thanke you
for my good entertainment.
_Host._ You are heartily welcome, sir.
_Eum._ Come, Jack, whether go we now?
_Jack._ Mary, maister, to the conjurers presently. 725
_Eu._ Content, Jack: Hostis, farewell. _Exe. om._
_Enter_ COREBUS _and_ ZELANTO[1122] _the foule wench, to the Well for
water_.
_Coreb._ Come, my ducke, come. I have now got a wife; thou art
faire, art thou not?[1123]
_Zelan._ My Corebus, the fairest alive, make no doubt of that.
_Cor._ Come, wench, are we almost at the wel? 730
_Zela._ I, Corebus, we are almost at the Well now; Ile go fetch
some water: sit downe while I dip my pitcher in.
_Voyce._ Gently dip: but not too deepe;
For feare you make the goulde_n_ beard to weepe.
_A head comes up with eares of corne, and she combes them in her lap._
Faire maiden, white and red, 735
Combe me smoothe, and stroke my head,
And thou shall have some cockell bread.
Gently dippe, but not too deepe,
For feare thou make the goulden beard to weep.
Faire maide, white and redde, 740
Combe me smooth, and stroke my head;
And every haire a sheave shall be,
And every sheave a goulden tree.
_A head[1124] comes up full of golde, she combes it into her lap._
_Zelan._ Oh see, Corebus, I have combd a great deale of golde into my
lap, and a great deale of corne. 745
_Coreb._ Well said, wench; now we shall have just[1125] enough. God
send us coiners to coine our golde. But come, shall we go home, sweet
heart?
_Zelan._ Nay, come, Corebus, I will lead you.
_Coreb._ So, Corebus, things have well hit, 750
Thou hast gotten wealth to mend thy wit. _Exit._
_Enter_ JACK _and the wandring knight_.
_Jack._ Come away, maister, come.
_Eum._ Go along, Jack, Ile follow thee.
Jack, they say it is good to go crosse-legged, and say his prayers
backward:[1126] how saiest thou? 755
_Jack._ Tut, never feare, maister; let me alone, heere sit you still,
speake not a word. And because you shall not be intised with his
inchanting speeches, with this same wooll Ile stop your eares: and
so, maister, sit still, for I must to the Conjurer. _Exit_ Jack.
_Enter the Conjurer to the wandring knight._
_Sa._ How now, what man art thou that sits so sad? 760
Why dost thou gaze upon these stately trees,
Without the leave and will of Sacrapant?
What, not a word but mum?
Then, Sacrapant, thou art betraide.
_Enter_ JACK _invisible, and taketh off_ SACRAPANTS _wreath from his
head, and his sword out of his hand_.
_Sac._ What hand invades the head of Sacrapant? 765
What hatefull fury doth envy my happy state?
Then, Sacrapant, these are thy latest dayes.
Alas, my vaines are numd, my sinews shrinke,
My bloud is pearst,[1127] my breath fleeting away,
And now my timelesse date is come to end: 770
He in whose life his actions[1128] hath beene so foule,
Now in his death to hell descends his soule.
_He dyeth._
_Jack._ Oh, sir, are you gon? Now I hope we shall have some
other coile. Now, maister, how like you this? the Conjurer hee is
dead, and vowes never to trouble us more. Now get you to your 775
faire Lady, and see what you can doo with her. Alas, he heareth me
not all this while; but I will helpe that.
_He pulles the wooll out of his eares._
_Eum._ How now, Jack, what news?
_Jack._ Heere, maister, take this sword and dig with it, at the
foote of this hill. 780
_He digs and spies a light._
_Eum._ How now, Jack, what is this?
_Jack._ Maister, without this the Conjurer could do nothing, and
so long as this light lasts, so long doth his arte indure, and this
being out, then doth his arte decay.
_Eum._ Why then, Jack, I will soone put out this light. 785
_Jack._ I, maister, how?
_Eum._ Why with a stone Ile breake the glasse, and then blowe
it out.
_Jack._ No, maister, you may as soone breake the smiths anfill, as
this little vyoll; nor the biggest blast that ever Boreas blew,
cannot blowe out this little light; but she that is neither 790
maide,[1129] wife, nor widowe. Maister, winde this horne; and see
what will happen.
_He windes the horne._
_Heere enters_ VENELIA _and breakes the glasse, and blowes out the
light, and goeth in againe_.
_Jack._ So, maister, how like you this? This is she that ranne madding
in the woods, his betrothed love that keepes the crosse; and nowe, 795
this light being out, all are restored to their former libertie. And
now, maister, to the Lady that you have so long looked for.
_He draweth a curten, and there_ DELIA _sitteth a sleepe_.
_Eum._ God speed, faire maide sitting alone: there is once.
God speed, faire maide; there is twise: 800
God speed, faire maide, that is thrise.
_Delia._ Not so, good sir, for you are by.
_Jack._ Enough, maister, she hath spoke; now I will leave her with
you.
_Eum._ Thou fairest flower of these westerne parts, 805
Whose beautie so reflecteth in my sight,
As doth a christall mirror in the sonne:
For thy sweet sake I have crost the frosen Rhine,[1130]
Leaving faire Po, I saild up Danuby,
As farre as Saba, whose inhansing streames 810
Cuts twixt the Tartars and the Russians,--
These have I crost for thee, faire Delia:
Then grant me that which I have sude for long.
_Del._ Thou gentle knight, whose fortune is so good,
To finde me out, and set my brothers free, 815
My faith, my heart, my hand, I give to thee.
_Eum._ Thankes, gentle madame: but heere comes Jack; thanke
him, for he is the best friend that we have.
_Enter_ JACK _with a head in his hand_.
_Eum._ How now, Jack, what hast thou there?
_Jack._ Mary, maister, the head of the conjurer. 820
_Eum._ Why, Jack, that is impossible; he was a young man.
_Jack._ Ah, maister, so he deceived them that beheld him: but hee
was a miserable, old, and crooked man; though to each mans eye h[e
see]med young and fresh. For, maister, this Conjurer tooke the shape
of the olde man that kept the crosse: and that olde man was in the 825
likenesse of the Conjurer.[1131] But nowe, maister, winde your horne.
_He windes his horne._
_Enter_ VENELIA, _the two Brothers, and he that was at the Crosse_.
_Eu._ Welcome, Erestus, welcome, faire Venelia,[1132]
Welcome, Thelea, and Kalepha[1133] both!
Now have I her that I so long have sought, 830
So saith faire Delia, if we have your consent.
_1. Bro._ Valiant Eumenides, thou well deservest
To have our favours: so let us rejoyce,
That by thy meanes we are at libertie.
Heere may we joy each in others sight, 835
And this faire Lady have her wandring knight.
_Jack._ So, maister, nowe yee thinke you have done: but I must have a
saying to you. You know you and I were partners, I to have halfe in
all you got.
_Eum._ Why, so thou shalt, Jack. 840
_Jack._ Why, then, maister draw your sworde, part your Lady, let mee
have halfe of her presently.
_Eumenid._ Why, I hope, Jack, thou doost but jest; I promist thee
halfe I got, but not halfe my Lady.
_Jack._ But what else, maister? have you not gotten her? Therefore 845
devide her straight, for I will have halfe; there is no remedie.
_Eumen._ Well, ere I will falsifie my worde unto my friend, take her
all; heere Jack, Ile give her thee.
_Jacke._ Nay, neither more nor lesse, maister, but even just halfe.
_Eum._ Before I will falsifie my faith unto my friend, I will 850
divide hir; Jacke, thou shalt have halfe.
_1. Brother._ Bee not so cruell unto our sister, gentle knight.
_2. Brother._ O spare faire Delia; shee deserves no death.
_Eum._ Content your selves; my word is past to him; therefore
prepare thy selfe, Delya, for thou must die. 855
_Delya._ Then, farewell, worlde; adew Eumenides.
_He offers to strike and_ JACKE _staies him_.
_Jacke._ Stay, master; it is sufficient I have tride your constancie.
Do you now remember since you paid for the burying of a poore
fellow?
_Eum._ I, very well, Jacke. 860
_Jacke._ Then, master, thanke that good deed for this good turne, and
so God be with you all.
JACKE _leapes downe in the ground_.
_Eum._ Jacke, what, art thou gone?
Then farewell, Jacke.
Come, brothers and my beauteous Delya, 865
Erestus, and thy deare Venelia:
We will to Thessalie with joyfull hearts.
_All._ Agreed, we follow thee and Delya.
_Exeunt omnes._[1134]
_Fant._ What, Gammer, a sleepe?
_Old wom._ By the Mas, sonne, tis almost day, and my windowes 870
shut[1135] at the cocks crow.
_Frol._ Doo you heare, Gammer, mee thinkes this Jacke bore a great
sway amongst them.
_Old wom._ O, man, this was the ghost of the poore man, that they kept
such a coyle to burie, & that makes him to help the wandring 875
knight so much. But come, let us in: we will have a cup of ale and a
tost this morning and so depart.[1136]
_Fant._ Then you have made an end of your tale, Gammer?
_Old wom._ Yes, faith. When this was done, I tooke a peece of
bread and cheese, and came my way, and so shall you have, too, 880
before you goe, to your breakefast.